


Green Eyes

by ribbonelle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Autoboot Camp, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was it with Cybertronians and their tendency to get excited meeting someone who hailed from the same place as they did?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> reposting from my drabble collection because vanity! (also i wanted to up the count for ironhide/wasp fics on ao3)
> 
> idk why is whenever i write about these two, i want to break out all the cliche high school sweetheart ideas and add like 1000x angst. i’m so sure i fucked up w grammar here. also apologies for abrupt endings. i feel like wasp wouldn’t really act like this BUT this was for a prompt! which i took and ran with it, and its not even…vaguely similar… again. its at the end of this post, though, so you know what its about.

What was it with Cybertronians and their tendency to get excited meeting someone who hailed from the same place as they did? There weren’t  _that_ many districts around; you were bound to meet someone from your home either way. Getting all enthusiastic about it didn’t seem to make sense. Wasp came from the city; he had travelled as well and met citymechs too; but he didn’t get excited over it. It was a common thing.

Even if Ironhide was from the energon farms, it didn’t seem logical to just get all chummy with Bulkhead out of nowhere. Bulkhead was a nerd. It wasn’t as if striking up conversation with the mech would lead anywhere productive. Much less was talking to him for nearly an hour.

Wasp huffed to himself once again, decidedly  _not_ watching Ironhide laugh and mock punch Bulkhead’s shoulder in an overly friendly way.

What the hell did they have to catch up on anyway? All of them had been here in camp for the same amount of time, and Bulkhead and Ironhide weren’t even from the same region inside Carburisia, so what exactly were they discussing?

It was annoying. Wasp was still not looking. He punched the training post again, harder.

The bumble was somewhere else, occupied or whatever, and Wasp had been making use of their free time to spar with Ironhide. They took a break about roughly an hour, and Bulkhead had arrived to do some training of his own probably (Wasp didn’t really care), and Ironhide had greeted him. And then they started talking.

And kept talking.

It almost seemed like Ironhide had forgot about him. Which was a notion that made Wasp feel intensely sick, so he discarded that line of thought altogether. No way, they were friends. Really, really close friends, Wasp had no doubt Ironhide thought highly of him. He had made sure of that.

Plus, Ironhide had always been easily influenced. He held his own principles and ideas and what not, but he wasn’t exactly the type to just go off on his own, either. He had a sense of loyalty. Or at least Wasp thought he did.

At the moment, that didn’t really seem to be the case.

His internal chronometer informed him that it was already 4 o’clock. Exactly an hour since Ironhide started yapping away to Bulkhead. Wasp punched the training post a few more times, hard enough he could almost feel the metal of his knuckles denting, the wood of the post cracking loudly under his onslaught, and straightened up. He stretched, the sound of his cooling fans a roar in his audials, and left.

He made a point to dial down his hearing too, not looking back when he exited the building. If Ironhide called him back, he didn’t want to know. If Ironhide didn’t even notice he was gone…he’d rather not know even more.

 //

It was indescribably shitty to be mad at someone if you had no other option than to see them daily, and to go through the same routine as they did. It was worse if you had initially shared a bunker bed with them so they’d be in close proximity practically all the time.

Wasp wasn’t really mad, actually, but he was trying to prove something to himself. If he didn’t address what he was trying to prove, he could ignore this whole thing altogether and act like it never happened. That was the preferable outcome, of course. He could deal with not speaking to Ironhide. He’d rather  _not_ spend the rest of his training years not speaking to Ironhide, but if the mech wanted things that way, then it wasn’t any skin off Wasp’s back. He would do just fine.

So Wasp shouldn’t have felt extremely disgusted when Ironhide came into the barracks with Bulkhead by his side, smiling the way he does. They were still laughing, like a couple of dim-witted idiots, and Wasp’s vision turned momentarily red with anger before resetting.

Great. Just perfect.

Bumblebee yelled some sort of greeting upon seeing Bulkhead, and the mech acknowledged his friend with a wave, leaving Ironhide after a few parting words and a wide smile. Ironhide said something in return and laughed; his stupid, annoying laugh; and headed over to Wasp’s and his bunker bed. Wasp chose to frown at the datapad he was holding, gripping it hard enough to leave dents.

“Hi Wasp!” Ironhide said jovially, pausing to fold his arms and place them on Wasp’s mattress, the bed on top of his own. He rested his chin in his folded arms then, tilting his head with a smile, “What are ya readin’?”

Very slowly, Wasp looked up from his datapad,  gave Ironhide the most hostile look he could muster, and then returned his gaze to his reading. Ironhide’s vents stalled audibly, and satisfaction almost made Wasp grin. Good.

“Um…” Ironhide lifted his head, apprehensive, now, “You mad at me, Wasp?”

Wasp didn’t bother glancing at him again. It was childish, but it was  _Ironhide_ who rocked their supposedly stable ship of camaraderie. Ironhide messed up first. Wasp was entitled to this.

Ironhide had that expression on his faceplates; Wasp knew without even looking, the minibot could  _feel_ it; the one that made him look like a wounded turbofox. “Wasp,” the mech said, and hurt bled into his voice, “Come on. Talk to me. Let’s get out of here, talk to me.”

He was still looking at his datapad but he couldn’t see the text on it. He counted in his mind till five, before dropping it and looked down at Ironhide; who was wearing the exact expression Wasp knew he would; and scoffed.

He swung his legs off of his berth, dangerously close to Ironhide’s head, and dropped to the floor, landing on his feet.

Good enough. He made his point. He  _was_ mad at Ironhide, and the slagger deserved feeling bad. He made his way to the door, Ironhide right behind him. 

He caught sight of Bulkhead from the other side of the room, who had apparently met Ironhide’s optics by coincidence, and the mech was grinning and Wasp’s anger returned full force. Unbelievable.

Wasp walked faster. Fast enough that Ironhide had to stride to keep up with him, all the way to the storage shed they usually hung out in. Ironhide closed the door behind them, and Wasp didn’t even wait till he had turned around again.

“Let’s spar.”

Ironhide was clearly surprised, confused by the sudden suggestion, “But Wasp—“

“Let’s spar. Or I’m heading back, I have better things to do.” It was mean-spirited and harsh, but Wasp was thrumming with aggressive energy. Ironhide could probably see it.

The larger mech thought about it, before shifting his stance, raising his fists up, frowning. Wasp grinned behind his mask, glad that he would find some way to actually expend all the pent-up frustration he had, and he would also get to hit Ironhide. He wanted that.

He fixed his own stance, before lunging, and it was nothing like the sparring they did during training hours. Wasp wasn’t thinking about strategies, or how to defend himself, he just wanted to  _hit._ And he did get in a few punches, denting the metal of Ironhide’s  front and shoulders, before Ironhide grabbed his shoulders and swerved both their frames so they crashed to the ground.

They rolled. Wasp socked Ironhide hard in his stupid chin and Ironhide hit him back, right up the mouth guard. It felt a little unaligned when Wasp opened his mouth to snarl, but Ironhide pinned him down by the shoulders, his legs locked, rendered immobile by Ironhide’s knees.

Wasp struggled against the hold, angry that he was caught, wanting to throw Ironhide off him and  even attempted to, but then Ironhide’s plating tessellated and adjusted, and Wasp was literally trying to push against iron. The fight went out of him eventually, leaving his frame slack like the anger had been a tangible thing. He shot his friend a dull glare.

“You fight sloppy when you’re angry, y’know that?” Ironhide said casually after a few moments, like they really had been training.

Wasp sneered, “And you hesitate too much when you’re confused. You shouldn’t.”

“It gets a little confusing when your best friend’s mad at you and you don’t know why, unfortunately.”

“What if your  _best friend’s_  actually a ‘Con, hm? You gonna stay confused?”

Ironhide shook his head at that, and didn’t comment on the sarcastic emphasis Wasp put while saying ‘best friend’.

Neither of them said anything for a while, staying where they were. Wasp murmured something intelligible, and Ironhide leaned closer, his optic ridges raised, “What?”

“I said, we were supposed to spar for three hours today.”

Ironhide took a while to think about that. They did usually spar three hours every day, and today had been different because…

Oh.

His plating rearranged itself back into orange plating, and he moved a little so Wasp wasn’t restrained anymore. The minibot made no move to slide out under Ironhide, though.

“I got caught up in talking with Bulkhead, didn’t I.”

“You  _ignored_ me. For an  _hour_.”

“I didn’t—“ Ironhide shut up at the how Wasp’s optics flashed, reconsidered his words, “I…I might have. I’m sorry. Then you left and I called to you but you didn’t hear me, oh slag, I didn’t mean to ignore you, honest. I got caught up with the conversation, I swear it wasn’t intentional. Bulkhead’s been to where I live and we talked about it a little and it’s just…I guess I miss home a bit. It’s no excuse, though, sorry Wasp.”

Wasp raised an optic ridge before rolling his optics. But he wasn’t mad anymore. It sort of felt childish, now, but Ironhide was wholly focused on him and he got himself an apology, so it wasn’t so bad.

Wasp couldn’t remember the last time someone’s attention mattered this much to him, but thinking about it made his tanks roil and his faceplates hot, so he stopped, reaching up to unclasp his mouth guard and set it aside on the ground. Hopefully his faceplates would cool down with the exposure to air, but Wasp knew it was a poor excuse for what he really wanted.

Ironhide’s optics flicked down to his recently revealed mouth and guiltily looked up again, apparently upset with himself. Wasp merely grinned, “One track processor.”

The mech floundered at the accusation, moving as if to get off of Wasp, but was halted by Wasp’s arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him back down. Ironhide hesitated, and sighed, “Really am sorry, though.”

“I know,” Wasp said quietly, and shrugged, “Talk to Bulkhead all you want, I’m not your creator.”

 _Just don’t forget about me,_  he wanted to add, but there wasn’t a way of saying that without sounding needy, and Wasp didn’t want that in the least. But that was what mattered the most to him. He needed to know he wasn’t replaceable.

Ironhide seemed to understand, anyway, “Yeah. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s a huge nerd. Polite, at least. You’re the only worthy mech in this place though, no contest.”

Wasp scoffed, mostly at how weird it was to hear something so unlike Ironhide coming from said mech. But it was the right words to say, and Wasp couldn’t help how happy he felt, “Sure. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Ironhide was grinning now, probably relieved that Wasp didn’t seem to be angry anymore, and with that relief came a sense of confidence, it seemed, “Hm, alright. So, can I kiss you already?”

“I knew it. I knew you had a one-track processor! Primus.”

Ironhide’s frame over his shook with laughter, and he was a little wary of how his spark felt too big, how Ironhide’s bright smile made him feel warm all over. He was getting too attached. He had better priorities.

At the moment, he didn’t care.

“Heard that post-fight make outs are amazing, wanna try it out?” Ironhide winked deliberately and Wasp snickered, shaking his head at how ridiculous they were being, but pulled Ironhide down anyway.

“Show me.”

And it really was amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> Idea: “Wasp thinks Ironhide cheated on him, Ironhide proves him wrong, he then showers Wasp with affection. AS Wasp thinks his ‘mental imbalance’ would drive Ironhide away.”


End file.
